Dr. Richard Rich, in a somewhat theatrical-looking soft black hat and a dark blue suit, closed the gate behind him and came hesitantly up the path.
"Miss Browning, isn't it?" he inquired, peering in the gloom. "And Mr.-?"
"Courtney."
"Ah, yes! Courtney. Sir Henry's secretary." Rich rubbed his cheek. "I hope you'll excuse this intrusion. I came to see whether there were any developments."
"Developments!" breathed Ann.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Dr. Rich," said Ann with cruel clearness, "I don't know how many people you've killed, through carelessness, in the course of your professional career. But you killed Vicky Fane last night. She's dying, do you hear? Dying."
Rich appeared to be staring back at them through the distorting moonlight.
"What in the name of sanity are you talking about?"
"Steady, Ann!" said Courtney. He put his arm round her shoulders tightly. All her body seemed to droop. "Doctor, do you remember showing Mrs. Fane was really hypnotized by driving a pin into her arm?"